Fairy tales
by Beautiful Twisted Reality
Summary: "I'm in love with her," he had said. Those five words brought my entire world crumbling down. I knew they were true. I'd seen the signs, refused to believe what was right in front of me, staring at me the entire time. [One-Shot]


**A/N: Alright guys, looks like 'The Voice' is on a temporary stopping point. I'm very big on making all the guy to girl interactions as realistic as possible. To do that; I enlist my fiancé to read and approve all my ideas, and the idea I have for one main part in 'The Voice' is unrealistic. I guess you could say it's on Hiatus until I can figure out a way to make it flow realistically. However, I am forever grateful to the many people who followed and favorited and reviewed it though, that's the best compliment I could get!**

**Now, this story is...different. I think I like it though...as always tell me what you think :) **

**_Anything you recognize is the sole property of J.K. Rowling! (:_**

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**Fairy tales**

My mum would always read me fairy tale stories when I was a girl. Not the wizard kind but the muggle kind. She would tell me that life rarely gives out happy endings. She would pull me up onto her lap and tell me that even though everything goes right in the books, real life isn't as beautiful as that. It's bloody messy.

I remember when we met. He was small and thin and had pale skin with bright blond hair. He walked with an air of arrogance that isn't often found in eleven year olds. My mum had told me about him.

"He's an exact replica of his daddy." She paused and looked into the distance. I had nodded and smiled. When I entered the train; he was the first person I saw, I remember taking a deep breath and walking straight up to him.

"I'm Isabella Parkinson." I noticed his eyes. He may have only been eleven but his eyes spoke of wisdom more profound than anything I had ever seen.

"Scorpius Malfoy." He said extending a hand. I smiled.

We sat in the same compartment and the hat placed us into the same house. Even at eleven years old I knew he was beautiful. He was an awkward sort of beautiful. Although, even at eleven I knew I wanted this boy in my life forever.

We spent the summers together, and the school years too. We knew every secret, and kept every lie. The two of us together were a beautiful and terrifying combination. Unlike my mum, I was shy. Scorpius was my protector. He kept me safe, safer than I had ever known.

It didn't surprise me when I began to fancy him. He was my best friend; my hero. I think I had loved him since I first saw him. He was my fairy tale ending. It took him a bit, but he eventually came around. I fell harder for him then I ever believed possible.

He understood me. He knew me. No matter what I did or said he was always there. When someone murdered my father, Scorpius was there. When my pet owl died, Scorpius was there. When I got my first 'O' Scorpius was there. He was there for everything.

Until one day he wasn't. I remember seventh year, I remember it clearly. Every single day is pristinely branded into my head. I had been sick all day. Nothing major, just didn't feel well. I didn't go to any classes. Yet, I never did hear from my boyfriend either.

I felt my stomach rumble around 10, and upon realizing I hadn't eaten all day, I made my way down to the kitchens. I heard the voices before I saw anyone. One was a girl; she was laughing. It was a quiet laugh, a completely relaxed and natural laugh. I heard a male voice, and I felt my stomach clench. I didn't hear what he said; I couldn't. I turned and ran the entire way back to my room; refusing to elaborate on what my mind was telling me.

When I got back to my bed I sank into it. I felt my mind reply the scene over and over and over. I shook my head and pushed to unwanted and unwelcome thoughts to the back of my mind. I only had one thought, something he had told me at the beginning of the week; and I determined it was the only explanation.

"I have prefect duty with Rose every night this week."

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Over the next week, I had taken to watching them during the times they thought no one was around. I watched her laugh at his jokes and bite her lip and blush when he smiled at her. I saw him staring at her during classes. I noticed the way he was captivated by her presence.

"Why are you so paranoid?" He said to me one night by the fire. "She's my prefect partner and she's helping me study." I had nodded. He had kissed me after that and I thought everything would get better. It almost did.

When I look back, I wonder if it got better, or if I just began to turn a blind eye toward everything I saw. I refused to acknowledge the way her hand would graze his while they were walking. Or the way he seemed to linger a bit longer every night. I never saw him stare at her during breakfast, or smile at her when she laughed with her cousins.

I began to hate her. Everything from her looks to her voice posed a problem in my everyday life. I couldn't get through a day without hearing her.

I should have left him. I thought about it many times. I knew he would break my heart, I knew he would be no good for me. I tried. So many times I opened my mouth to tell him we were done, and every time he caught my eye, smiled, and I was caught.

I believed everything would eventually be alright. I was so blindly and helplessly in love with him that I didn't care. I didn't care that he began to get distant. Or that he would begin to insult me in small ways.

"That shirt doesn't look very nice."

"Cor, Bella, can you not be so dim for once in your life."

"You're unbearable right now, is it your time of the month?" He would say.

I waited till night fell before I would cry. I didn't want to believe that I was losing him. Not this way. This was a torturous, slow, painful process of losing someone. I would comfort myself with the way he used to be. The things he used to tell me.

"You're beautiful."

"You're perfect."

"I've never met anyone like you before."

It wasn't until one night when I realized how unforgiving love was. It wasn't until one dark and dreary night in the common room that I realized the pain I was about to endure; all from four little, insignificant words.

"We need to talk."

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_10 minutes later..._

I shook away the tears that had been threatening to fall since he had started this toxic conversation. I was in the Room of Requirement; and I had only one thought running rampant in my brain. I wanted to crush him, for no other reason than the fact that he had hurt me.

Maybe that makes me heartless, but I don't think so. I had given him everything; everything that I owned and believed in. He was my only confident, my best mate. Yet, none of that seemed to matter. He had taken my heart and crushed it mercilessly. He didn't spare a second thought to the fact that he killed me inside. He didn't care.

"I'm in love with her," he had said. Those five words brought my entire world crumbling down. I knew they were true. I'd seen the signs, refused to believe what was right in front of me, staring at me the entire time.

"How long?"

"A while."

For some reason, those two words hurt more than any other words he had ever said to me. I felt the sting behind my eyes and swiped furiously at them.

I remember laughing at the dim girls who used to say they could actually feel their heart breaking. I would roll my eyes and scoff. In this moment though, I felt pity for every single girl who had ever made that daring declaration. It was true; and it was terribly painful.

I glanced at the bookshelves that adorned the walls, the plush sofa, and the fireplace that cast a light glow. I refused to look at the boy in front of me, I couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he broke me, I wouldn't allow him that. The more I surveyed the room; the darker it looked. The bookshelves looked menacing, the sofa looked hard and unforgiving, and the glow from the fireplace looked much too harsh.

I slowly remembered every night we had spent in here. The laughter, the cries, the moans of pleasure; each memory was equivalent to being stabbed in the chest by a dull knife. When I glanced back to the boy who had crushed my heart, I realized I was staring at nothing.

He had left.

In that moment, I sank to the floor and cried.

* * *

_One week later..._

My palms were sweaty. For a solid minute I could do nothing more than stare. He was beautiful, and tortuously unattainable. He had made sure of that. I could barely handle it. Ever since that day it was as if he was everywhere, it was if I couldn't get a moment alone with myself. Yet, I hate to admit I hardly tried.

I would steal glances at him during breakfast, when the crowds all around provided a wonderful comfort. I would allow myself more looks in classes, when the professors occupied most attentions. I would openly stare at him during Quidditch matches.

I knew him better than anyone. I knew that he had a certain fondness for bright green apples at breakfast; I knew that he pretended to goof off during class, but would scribble little notes onto the parchment when he thought no one was watching, I knew that his cheeks would tinge just the slightest shade of red when a professor called his actual name. I knew that although he pretended to hate his name, he secretly loved the fact that it was so different.

He was the first person I thought of when I woke up, he was the last person I thought of when I went to sleep, and he was in almost every single thought during the day. Every thought tinged with the pain of losing him to her.

I cringed at the thought of her. She was his opposite. She studied religiously; attempting to live up to her mother's reputation. She was always the first one with an answer, and the last one to make a joke. She at like a pig at breakfast, but turned up her nose at sausage.

She wasn't beautiful. She wasn't pretty. Her red hair was always knotted, and she never wore makeup. Her two front teeth were larger than the rest and she had a splattering of freckles on her face. Her brown eyes didn't shine, and she normally walked with her head down. She was abnormally tall, and thin as a rail.

She was my worst nightmare; she was his whole world. She would smile at him, and he would laugh at her. He would ruffle her hair, and she would pout at him until he kissed her. They would hold hands in the corridor and he would walk her to every class. She would blow him kisses and he would pretend to catch them.

I glanced over at him and frowned. The thought of him sent my heart sailing and my palms sweating. His smile would brighten my day, and his laugh would wash over me like a rainstorm. His sneer felt like a punch in the stomach, and his sarcasm felt like a million needles. He was sweet as sugar, and sour as the devil.

And every time I let my mind wander just a bit too much, I was pulled back by one thought: he had chosen her.

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**So? What'd ya think :) **


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